M.M.F.F. Challenge: Week #30

Amy C over at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie over at Tink's Place
have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 

     And here is picture prompt #30 

       

                                    

                  Lost In Time

                                                               

            By Brenda Sessoms     

                                                                   

For two hundred years she has walked the moors of Ireland, weeping and wailing, a specter in white, ethereal in her beauty, a lost soul.

She returns each year upon the date of  her death to the place of her burial , a place so old very few ever visit. Shrouded in mist, headstones crumbling, she raises her hands and prays to the gods to release her from her wandering. As all the times before they ignore her.

If she could take it all back she would. She was the spoiled daughter of  a very rich man and wanted for nothing. She was on her way to a ball ,when her carriage suddenly came to a stop.  She called out to her driver furious that he had stopped.

He told his mistress he stopped for a wagon broken down in the middle of the road,she shouted for him to find a way around immediately.

A few moments passed by and there was a knock on her carriage door.She raised the window . When she looked out an old gypsy woman looked back at her .The old woman began to tell her of her grandson who was very sick and begged her to take him into town to see the doctor. The woman laughed at her and refused saying, " I will not let a filthy gypsy into my carriage" and slammed the window.

She shouted to her driver once more and they sped away. As they went around the old gypsy said, " If my grandson dies, you will upon your death wander these moors never finding peace for eternity". 

The beautiful  boy, her only grandson took his last breath as the new day was dawning. Her grief over her loss soon took her from this earth also, but with her dying breath she repeated her curse.

The girl for she was only seventeen began to dream of the gypsy woman,over and over she heard the gypsy woman's words to her. She became even more cruel to those around her for she was frightened.

Three months after that fateful night she took her horse out on the moors when suddenly her horse became frightened and bolted throwing her and killing her........

The End:

Word Count:369

B.